


Give me little death

by notallbees



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Injury, M/M, Post-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Rimming, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Top Claude von Riegan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: "You know," Claude murmured, walking his fingertips across Dimitri's chest. "If you had such a notion...I'd be more than happy to indulge it."Dimitri glanced at him. "What do you mean?""Oh, anything you might fancy trying in bed," Claude continued. "Or out of bed, if you prefer. Perhaps a little clandestine tryst on the battlements.""Absolutely not," Dimitri said, face flushing.Claude laughed. "Or anything you like. Some secret desire you'd like to fulfill, perhaps...?"Claude offers to help Dimitri realise his darkest fantasies.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 70
Kudos: 476





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaspurrlock (stilesstilerstyle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/gifts).



> PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS IN START/END NOTES IF YOU FEEL YOU MAY BE TRIGGERED BY THE CONTENTS. 
> 
>   
> hi this ruined my brain. please enjoy. 
> 
> I owe boundless thanks to Chrys and Bean for helping me to make this work, Jane and Frog for their insight and cheerleading, and to Jas for making it all happen in the first place!! ♥
> 
>   
> **Warning:** The fic does not contain any non-con, but the characters roleplay a scene with non-con, and there are dub-con elements. See end notes for more details.

Although he fought back, Dimitri had little difficulty lifting the dancer and dragging him into his bedchamber. He'd secreted the man past the guards, and now dropped him unceremoniously on the floor in order to make sure the door was securely locked behind them.

"Why have you brought me here?" the dancer asked. He stood up on shaky legs, lifting his chin defiantly. His costume fitted tightly, clearly displaying his rather charming assets, and there was an attractive flush on his cheeks from struggling. Straightening up, the man dragged his gaze over Dimitri from head to toe. His eyes lingered when he reached Dimitri's groin, and he clearly wasn't impressed with what he saw, his lip curling into a sneer. "Oh, I see what this is about," he sneered. "You soldiers are all the same."

Dimitri cleared his throat, feeling foolish. "It's, uh—futile to try and escape," he said. He moved closer, but the dancer stepped back, trying to skirt around him to reach the door. "There's no point," Dimitri said. "The door is locked...and I have the only key."

The dancer's eyes widened. "Perhaps I am not looking for escape," he said, his tone changing to something sweeter. He moved closer, his movements clearly calculated to be alluring. It would have worked even if he weren't so scantily clad. As it was, Dimitri could scarcely tear his eyes from the sway of the man's hips, or the tempting flutter of that scrap of fabric preserving his dignity. "Perhaps you and I can come to some… _arrangement_."

"I think not."

"Oh, give me a chance," the man replied, looping an arm around Dimitri's neck. "I think you'll find I can be _very_ persuasive."

"I will not release you," Dimitri rumbled, reaching out to place his hands on the dancer's hips. His bare skin was warm beneath Dimitri's fingers. Dimitri groaned and lowered his head to the man's shoulder, breathing in the exotic scent of him. He'd doused himself in an unfamiliar perfume, something that smelled like spices and—

"Dimitri," Claude murmured, laughing softly in his ear. "I'm supposed to be _seducing_ you."

"You _are_ ," Dimitri complained, holding his hips more tightly. "That's the trouble."

Claude laughed again, and placed a hand against his chest to push him away. "You're not supposed to make it so _easy_ for me."

"Why not?" Dimitri complained, his fingers feeling the loss of Claude's skin beneath them. "Isn't the whole point for us to—you know."

"Trust me," Claude said, giving him a roguish wink. "The prize will be all the sweeter for having earned it."

"I—Claude, I feel absurd," Dimitri confessed quietly. "Please, I have no talent for this."

Claude's face softened. "Nonsense," he said, reaching out to lay a hand on Dimitri's forearm. "Your performance is more than adequate. Don't think about it so hard, just have fun."

Dimitri huffed. "Fun."

"Yes," Claude said, chuckling. "It _is_ meant to be fun, you know."

"Very well," Dimitri muttered, taking a step back. He swallowed, and put his hand to the scabbard holding a wooden training sword. "D-don't think you'll be charming your way out of this, rogue. I'm going to have my way with you, and then, uh—" He trailed off, looking to Claude for inspiration.

" _Throw you back in your cell_!" Claude prompted in a stage whisper.

Dimitri nodded, and drew his sword with a flourish. "That's right! I shall throw you back in your cell when I'm finished with you, and you can rot there."

Claude stifled a giggle, and made his eyes go wide and fearful. "Please, good sir," he said, eyeing the blunt point of Dimitri's weapon. He sidled around it, stepping close to Dimitri, close enough for him to smell that intoxicating scent once more. "I think you may change your mind once you've tasted what I have to offer."

"Then let's get on with it," Dimitri said, tossing down his sword, and sweeping Claude up with one arm. Claude was laughing as Dimitri tossed him down upon the bed and covered him with his body. Dimitri expected him to fight back, but once he had regained his composure, Claude turned soft and supplicant, twining an arm around his neck, sliding soft fingers into his hair. His thighs bracketed Dimitri's hips, one heel nudging the back of his knee. "What—what are you doing?" 

"Oh, my," Claude teased, eyes sparkling. "Do I have to teach you how to do this? Don't worry, it's a simple matter." He grinned. "Any animal can manage it."

Dimitri frowned down at him. "Claude."

"Ah-ah," Claude warned, shaking his head. "You haven't yet asked my name, remember?"

"Never mind," Dimitri muttered, shaking his head. He leaned down to breathe in the scent of perfume from Claude's neck again, then moved his mouth along his bare collarbone, lingering at the hollow of his throat. He pressed his tongue there, and felt Claude gasp beneath him. He was being too gentle, he realised. Claude had asked him to be _rough_. Dimitri swallowed thickly, contemplating his next move, while Claude lay patiently beneath him. 

"If you wish," Claude prompted gently. "You could hold me down."

Dimitri's mind scattered at the impressions that offered him.

"Or turn me over," Claude offered. "Take me from behind, so I can't fight back."

"Goddess," Dimitri whispered. He found Claude's hands and pulled his arms up, pressing his wrists above his head, holding them there. It was easy for him to grasp both in one hand, and he rolled to the side as he ran the other down Claude's—the dancer's—body, watching the way he stiffened under his touch, limbs going taut, nipples hardening beneath the swathe of fabric. "I've been watching you," he growled, letting his thoughts flow free, watching the progress of his own, large hand against the delicate body beneath him. "Thinking of—taking you. Making you mine."

" _Yes_ ," Claude groaned, arching up into his touch. "Please—" 

Dimitri kissed him then, harder than he normally would, still holding Claude's wrists tightly. He plunged his tongue into Claude's mouth, touching the roof of his mouth, then drawing Claude's tongue into his own mouth and sucking on it fervently. Claude was moaning when they parted, spit coating his chin and the corner of his mouth, his eyes closed in apparent bliss. Sitting up, Dimitri released his grip on Claude's wrists and instead reached for the fold of fabric gathered at his hip. He slid his hand higher, following the fall of the fabric to Claude's opposite shoulder. He wanted his hands on Claude's chest. Impatient, Dimitri gave the fabric a mighty tug, and was rewarded with a loud tearing sound as he ripped the skimpy outfit in two, exposing Claude's bare chest, and the red, swollen tip of his cock where it peeked above the swathe of fabric across his hip. 

"Sothis's tits," Claude said, blinking down at himself, his face and chest flushed. 

"Beautiful," Dimitri breathed. He glanced up at Claude's stunned face. "And don't swear."

Claude smirked at him. "You'd swear too if I did something that unapologetically arousing."

Dimitri touched his tongue to his lower lip. "You're about to," he said, his voice barely shaking. "Get on your hands and knees and beg me to fuck you."

Claude's eyes widened, his pretty mouth falling open. "I—" he began, only to laugh, shaking his head. He rolled over as gracefully as he could manage, placing himself as Dimitri had instructed. His shoulders quivered faintly.

Dimitri knelt beside him, his heart in his throat. He'd never dared to order Claude around like this in bed, and the sense of power that rushed through him was terrifying and thrilling all at once. It was like lightning in his hand, in his head, and he took a steadying breath before he was able to speak again. "Beg me," he said, hoping that this was what Claude wanted. "Beg me to fuck you like an animal."

The breath rushed out of Claude as though he'd been punched. "Dimitri," he groaned, his voice hoarse. He took a slow, steadying breath before he spoke again. "I—w-want you to fuck me."

"Do better than that," Dimitri growled.

Claude swore softly. His thighs were trembling. "Mount me. Fuck me." He looked over his shoulder, his eyes wild. "I'm an animal, fuck me like an animal."

"Oh," Dimitri said softly, having not expected quite how badly that would affect him. Heat poured over him, and he reached without thinking to hold Claude's hips as he moved behind him. Claude was naked beneath the scraps of his costume, and when Dimitri lifted the torn remains of his tunic, he found that Claude was wet between his legs, oil shining on the backs of his thighs. He groaned as he pressed in with a thumb, skimming it down the cleft of Claude's backside and pressing against his hole. 

Claude flinched and shuddered, a soft moan spilling from him. "Please—"

Dimitri unfastened his own breeches and drew out his stiff cock. He pressed it against Claude's backside, grinding against him slowly. "Are you sure you can take me?" he asked in a low voice. "I won't give you any quarter."

"D-does a stag ask whether the doe can take him?" Claude asked in a shaking voice. 

His words almost undid Dimitri entirely. He clutched at Claude's hip, almost strangling his own cock with his other hand in an effort to hold back his orgasm. 

" _Dimitri_ ," Claude hissed. 

"I—yes, I will," Dimitri stammered. He drew the tip of his cock through the oil coating Claude's thighs, then pressed up against his hole again, angling to push in. He was careful, pushing in slowly, not knowing how thoroughly Claude had prepared himself. When he had reached halfway, he stopped, Claude panting beneath him. "Claude," he murmured, laying a hand over the base of his spine. "My love—are you alright?"

"Yeah," Claude breathed, voice rough. "Gods, Dimitri—"

Dimitri bent over him, pressing a kiss to the bare expanse of Claude's back. 

Claude laughed softly. "You're being very gentle all of a sudden."

"Sorry," Dimitri murmured, straightening up once more. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, grinding forward a little more, biting his lip at the broken sound of pleasure that burst from Claude's chest. He pulled out slowly and started to fuck Claude with slow, punishing thrusts. It took several attempts before he was able to seat himself almost fully, but when he did Claude let out a long, low moan, sinking his upper half down onto the bed, his back a long, supple curve. "You're so beautiful," Dimitri said, before he could catch himself.

Claude gave a somewhat laboured laugh. "You're a very generous captor," he quipped. 

Dimitri was allowing himself to be distracted again. He focused instead on controlling his movements, giving Claude enough of the punishment he'd requested without going so far as to cause him injury. It wasn't long before Claude was crying out beneath him, begging for Dimitri to fuck him harder, deeper, begging to be _ravaged_. 

"S-silence," Dimitri said, afraid that Claude was going to make him spend far too soon. He lifted one of Claude's legs, spreading him wider, and thrust into him harder. 

Claude _wailed_ beneath him, fingers scrabbling at the bedcovers. "H-harder!" he cried, clearly all himself now, his role forgotten. "Dimitri, beloved, _please_ —"

Dimitri pulled Claude back onto him as he thrust harder, and watched Claude sneak a hand down to touch himself, watched in amazement as he tugged himself only a handful of times before he made a mess of himself and the bedcovers, expending himself with truly impressive spurts. A wave of pleasure rolled over him, but Dimitri was scarcely aware that he'd followed Claude's example, but for Claude's grunt of pain alerting him to the fact that he'd clenched down far too hard with his fingers. He pulled his hands away hurriedly, stammering an apology. 

"Don't," Claude slurred, clumsily regaining his hands and knees. "Gods—don't apologise to me, sweetheart," he said, laughing thickly. "I've never been fucked so well in my life." 

"Are you—" Dimitri began, then sighed, looking down at where they were still joined. "I'm going to—pull out."

Claude nodded, giving out a low grunt when Dimitri pulled his cock free and a rush of his spending followed, dripping down Claude's balls. 

"Oh," Dimitri sighed, resisting the urge to follow it with his tongue. He placed gentle hands on Claude's thighs instead, easing him down carefully, helping him to turn over. "Are you alright?" 

"I've had far worse in battle," Claude joked, reaching for him. He pressed his sweaty face to Dimitri's, merely holding him close for several moments. "Thank you for indulging me, my love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Dimitri's temple. "That was everything I could have hoped for."

"Mm," Dimitri hummed, unconvinced, pulling Claude against him more tightly.

"Though I can't say the same for this," Claude murmured, picking at the shreds of his clothing. He laughed weakly. "I don't believe you've ever ripped my clothes off me before."

Dimitri winced. "I—I'm sorry, I was carried away. I'll arrange for it to be mended—"

"Don't be silly," Claude said, laughing. "I _loved_ it. The seamstress already had to let it out for me, I'm nowhere close to being as skinny as I was at seventeen."

"You are perfect," Dimitri said softly. 

Claude grinned and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." He heaved a contented sigh and lay back against the pillows, their limbs still entangled. They lay comfortably for several minutes, just breathing in each other's space. Then, Claude spoke again. "You know," he murmured, walking his fingertips across Dimitri's chest. "If you had such a notion...I'd be more than happy to indulge it."

Dimitri glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, anything you might fancy trying in bed," Claude continued. "Or out of bed, if you prefer. Perhaps a little clandestine tryst on the battlements."

"Absolutely not," Dimitri said, face flushing.

Claude laughed. "Or anything you like. Some secret desire you'd like to fulfill, perhaps...?"

Dimitri thought briefly, then shook his head. "There is nothing."

"Well," Claude said, smiling indulgently. "Let me know if that changes."

—

Despite turning down Claude's offer, the thought haunted him for days. Claude had lolled around like a contented cat since their amorous adventure, sweet-tempered and affectionate, treating Dimitri to lazy smiles and lingering gazes, yet for all his self-satisfaction, Dimitri could sense the hunger behind his eyes.

Dimitri trained hard that day, trying to distance himself from his worries, but when sleep took him that night, a familiar dream was close behind.

Dimitri was in a dark room. He could hear people moving around him, but turn as he would, he couldn't see anything. Events began to unfold around him. He'd been here before, over and Over. 

A voice broke into his thoughts, separate from what was happening to him. Dimitri tried to reach for it, straining his thoughts toward it. Finally, finally, the darkness began to melt away.

"Dimitri," Claude was saying, his voice low and urgent. "Sweetheart, wake up."

Dimitri sat upright with a shocked intake of breath. The dream fell away from him like a cloak, slipping off his shoulders smoothly, but leaving behind the sensation of the heavy material, the heat and weight of it. He took several deep breaths, blinking around at his surroundings. 

"Are you alright?" Claude asked.

Dimitri cleared his throat. It was still early, but enough grey, pre-dawn light filtered into the room to allow him to make out Claude beside him, his face taut with worry. "I'm fine," he croaked. After a moment he cleared his throat again and made a second attempt. "All is well."

Claude huffed, but after a moment he moved closer, pressing his knee against Dimitri's thigh. "Want to talk about it?"

"Just a dream," Dimitri said, shaking his head. 

"A bad one?"

Dimitri hesitated. His skin was clammy, the sheets sticking to him, but there was a shudder of heat at the base of his spine, and his cock throbbed between his legs. 

"Dimitri?"

"Ah—yes," Dimitri muttered, hiding his face in shame. 

"Come here," Claude murmured, gathering Dimitri's head against his shoulder, and pulling him down against the pillows. He ran his fingers gently through Dimitri's hair, drawing it back from his sweaty forehead. "I've got you."

Gritting his teeth, Dimitri clung to him tightly, pressing his face into the warmth of Claude's bare skin. Claude's heartbeat thudded under his ear, and he let it soothe him as his breathing slowly returned to normal. Several minutes passed in this way, but Claude didn't try to hurry him or press him for an explanation. If he noticed Dimitri's arousal, he said nothing. Dimitri lay awake, listening to the sound of Claude's gentle breathing, until it was time for breakfast. 

—

It wasn't until later that day that he thought to tell Claude about his dream. They were sparring together in the last dregs of the cool afternoon sunshine, each covered in sweat and dust, each bearing the bruises of several vicious bouts. As Dimitri went for a finishing blow, Claude ducked and tripped him, turning the feint to his advantage to pin Dimitri facedown in the dirt. It was no surprise that Claude had taken the advantage; he'd long known how to use Dimitri's size and strength against him, and Dimitri was slow and dull after his disturbed rest. 

He made a clumsy attempt to free himself, but Claude held firm. He pressed himself against Dimitri's back, grinding lazily against his backside. "Do you yield?" he asked, voice smug. 

Dimitri shuddered, and all of a sudden the dream came rushing back to him, dark and suffocating. Panicked, he lashed out without thinking, striking back at the figure who held him down. Claude fell back with a shocked sound, hitting the dirt hard. 

Fear flashed through Dimitri. Grimacing, he pushed himself up on shaking hands. "...Claude?" he whispered, trying to force his limbs to cooperate so he could turn around. "Claude, are you alright?"

"...Ow," Claude replied with a groan. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his shoulder. "Oof...I suppose I deserved that for getting cocky."

Dimitri shook his head, turning to reach for him. "I—I'm sorry—" 

Claude waved him off, laughing. "I'm fine, I'm fine—"

But Dimitri grabbed at him, pulling him into his arms.

"Ow, ow, easy—" Claude protested, flinching when Dimitri wrapped his arms around him.

Dimitri released him quickly. "Forgive me—"

"No, no," Claude said, laughing again weakly. "It was my mistake, I should've been ready for that. Good job catching me off my guard."

"But—" Dimitri protested. 

Claude reached a hand out. "Help me up."

Wordlessly, Dimitri clambered to his feet and reached down to pull Claude up after him. His hair and clothes were thick with dust, his face and neck smeared with sweat and dirt. With gentle hands, Dimitri brushed the worst of the dirt off his clothing, patting him down carefully as he did so.

"Dimitri," Claude said, accepting this treatment without complaint. "Are you checking me for broken bones?"

Dimitri hesitated. After a moment, he nodded slowly. 

Claude huffed and pushed him away. "I'm sturdier than I appear, you know," he said, annoyance twisting his pretty mouth. "You'll have to try a lot harder than that to hurt me."

"I don't want to hurt you," Dimitri argued. 

"I know," Claude snapped, still scowling. 

Dimitri could taste the annoyance on the back of his tongue. He fought for the right words to explain himself. "You think I'm underestimating you," he said tightly. "I'm not. But—I've _hurt_ people, Claude. The things I did during the war—"

"Alright," Claude said sharply, cutting him off. He glanced away, his jaw tight, his dark brows drawn in. he took a deep breath, blowing it out heavily through his nose. Finally, he turned back to Dimitri. "We both did things we can't change," he said, his tone measured.

"I—I know that," Dimitri said, hanging his head. "I'm sorry."

"Let's go upstairs," Claude muttered. "We both need a bath."

Dimitri assented, and the two of them went up to their rooms to bathe. Claude remained cool as they climbed the stairs, but he was never angry for long, and the hot water soon thawed his cool manner. 

As they dressed afterward, Dimitri snuck a glance at the fresh bruise blooming on Claude's shoulder. The marks on his hips from the other night had turned a deep purple, greening around the edges. 

"You're staring," Claude said in a teasing lilt. He turned and fluttered his eyelashes over his uninjured shoulder. "I'm afraid the seamstress hasn't yet mended my costume, if you were hoping for an encore."

"No," Dimitri said, shaking his head. 

Claude frowned. He turned, abandoning his shirt, and crossed the room to where Dimitri sat on the edge of his bed. "Something's bothering you," Claude said, lifting a knee and straddling his hips. "What is it? Are you still worried you've hurt me?"

"I _have_ hurt you," Dimitri muttered, resisting the urge to place his hands on Claude's body.

"No, beloved," Claude said firmly, cupping his face in both hands. "Dimitri, look at me." Dimitri lifted his gaze reluctantly. "We talked about this before. You can trust me. I know my own limits."

Dimitri wet his lip. Slowly, he nodded. 

"Good boy," Claude teased softly, brushing Dimitri's damp hair back from his face and kissing his forehead. 

"There's—something," Dimitri began, before Claude could withdraw. "Something I should tell you."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"I didn't—" Dimitri said, halting and nervous. "When I threw you off, I didn't—it wasn't conscious. You holding me down like that, it reminded me of my dream."

"Oh," Claude breathed, his face softening. He smoothed one of Dimitri's eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise."

Dimitri shook his head, finally permitting himself to cover Claude's hips with his hands, holding him as gently as he could. Claude watched him steadily, his face unbearably tender. His bottom lip was taut between his teeth, his brow creased. 

"The dream, I—I've had it before," Dimitri began in a halting voice. He hesitated, Claude's attention on him far too clear, far too knowing. He turned his head aside, and using his hands he guided Claude from his lap, seating him on the bed instead. "I'm—restrained. The room is dark." He paused and touched his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "Ah—"

"Is there anyone else there?" Claude asked.

Dimitri nodded. "I can't see them, but I—I know they're around me. I try to get free, but I'm chained. There's a man…"

Claude squeezed his fingers in encouragement. "What does he do?"

"He's—taunting me," Dimitri murmured, frowning. "And then, he—he unfastens his trousers, and someone grabs my hair. He—he forces his cock into my mouth."

"How does that make you feel?" Claude pressed gently.

Dimitri frowned. "Angry. Dirty. I—I worry about you."

The corner of Claude's mouth curled sweetly. "Me?"

"Th-that I—that you—won't take me back. That I'm…" He grimaced. "Spoiled goods."

"Oh," Claude sighed, his brow creasing. "Dimitri, I'd never—"

"I know," Dimitri said tightly.

Claude nodded. "Go on. What next?"

Dimitri closed his eyes, gathering his nerve. "There's another man, behind me. He pulls my legs apart. He's inside me. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. They—they hold my throat, it's hard to breathe."

Wordlessly, Claude reached for his hand and squeezed it between both of his own. He sighed, and stroked the back of Dimitri's hand with his thumb, before finally speaking, "I'm sorry. That sounds—"

"Wait," Dimitri said in a hoarse whisper. "There's...worse."

Claude blinked at him slowly, then nodded, waiting for him to speak. 

"This time," Dimitri began, warmth flooding his face. "When I dreamed it, I knew the man behind me."

Claude's eyes widened. "Indeed?"

Dimitri's throat was dry. It took him several attempts to speak. "It—was you."

Claude stared at him. "Me?"

"I'm sorry," Dimitri muttered, hanging his head. "I never should have told you, but I promised I would try to tell you everything. My mind—it creates demons, please forgive me. I know you could never be so cruel—"

"Wait, wait," Claude said, reaching out to press his hands against Dimitri's chest. "Don't blame yourself, you did the right thing by telling me."

Dimitri couldn't meet his eyes. "But—how could my mind manufacture something so—so _repugnant_? How can you forgive me?"

Claude laughed at him, but not unkindly. "You can't control what you dream, my love," he said gently, pressing his forehead against Dimitri's brow. "I do not blame you. In fact...I confess to being a little intrigued."

"...Truly?" Dimitri asked, lifting his head. 

"You played at being _my_ captor, after all," Claude murmured, caressing the fine hairs on the back of Dimitri's neck. "And, you know, I did say that I'd be happy to...well." He paused, letting the silence speak for him.

Dimitri swallowed. "You mean—you want to...pretend?"

"Do you?" Claude asked softly.

"I...don't know."

"Then don't let it trouble you," Claude said, wrapping his arms around Dimitri's shoulders. "It was a dream, nothing more."

"Yes," Dimitri murmured, sinking guiltily into Claude's embrace. "Nothing more."

—

The next few weeks were busy ones. Claude had numerous matters of state to attend to, leaving Dimitri with a great deal of time on his hands. Rather than mope around missing his company, Dimitri paid a long overdue visit to old friends in Northern Fódlan, although he took time out of each day to write to Claude. 

The reply he received was, unsurprisingly, quite rude.

_My darling one,_

_I'm pleased to hear you've had good sport, and that everyone is in good health. Matters here continue to improve, though these weeks without you have been interminable. I never knew how much I could miss the touch of your hands on my skin. I still think nightly of the last time we fucked_

Here, Dimitri had to pause, and excuse himself to his room to read the rest. 

_before I went away, the vigour with which you took me on the floor._

_I hope you enjoy the thought of me, picturing you as I bring myself off, gasping your name as I think of you filling me. I missed you so much today that it ached. Try as I would, I couldn't rid my mind of you, almost spending in my smalls during an endless meeting at the thought of your hot mouth on my cock. I felt like a child again, overwhelmed by how much I wanted you._

_Touch yourself for me when you read this. Let me imagine those beautiful fingers stroking your gorgeous cock in lieu of my own. Let me think of them smeared with oil, opening that beloved hole I long to kiss once more. Let me picture you splayed upon our bed, my name on your lips as you fuck yourself to thoughts of my cock inside you._

Dimitri set the letter down so that he could better tend to himself, following Claude's instructions as best he could. His completion came quickly, after which he retrieved paper and a quill and applied himself to writing a reply. 

—

More than a week later, Dimitri was in the library, trying not to think of Claude's imminent return while unable to turn his mind to anything else, when a servant came to rouse him. The moment she revealed that a wyvern rider had been spotted, approaching from the East, Dimitri muttered his thanks and hurried from the room. He raced along the hallways, tripping down stairs and skidding out into the courtyard just as a large shadow fell across the ground. 

Claude and his wyvern floated down as effortlessly as a leaf on the breeze, while Dimitri stood waiting, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides. He watched as the wyvern landed, fingers itching to reach out. Finally, Claude loosened the harness and jumped down to the ground, landing neatly like a cat. He turned to Dimitri, greeting him with a weary smile. 

"Finally," Dimitri murmured, starting toward him. He swept Claude up in his arms despite his laughing protests, gathering him close to his breast, and pressing his face into Claude's windswept hair. 

Claude's gloved hands cupped the back of his head and neck, the smooth leather cool where it touched his skin. "I'm home," he said, soothing Dimitri with his hands, voice low in his ear. "I'm home, my love."

Dimitri squeezed him more tightly. "I missed you." 

"You'll miss me much more if you don't allow me some air," Claude managed in a strangled voice. 

"Ah!" Dimitri gasped, and released him, setting him back on his feet. He looked Claude over, taking in his warm gaze and mischievous grin, and realised that he'd only been teasing. The tips of Dimitri's ears warmed. "I thought I was hurting you," he said, with a degree of sullenness. 

Claude laughed. "You'd know if you were hurting me," he said, shaking his head. He touched Dimitri's arm briefly, before stepping away. "I need to get her fed and watered." He grinned. "And then I'm in sore need of a bath."

"I'll arrange it," Dimitri promised. "And I'll see to it that you're fed and watered too."

Claude's answering groan almost made him blush. "Thank you, my love," he said, casting a fond look back at Dimitri. "I'll be up soon."

Once Claude had bathed, the two enjoyed a lazy supper together, talking softly about what had happened since they saw one another last.

And then, just as Dimitri had stopped expecting him to bring it up, Claude looked over and said, "I enjoyed your letter."

Flushing, Dimitri looked away. "I'm glad, that was the intention."

Claude chuckled. "You mentioned something," he said, with a teasing note in his tone that Dimitri knew spelled _trouble_. "About your dream."

Dimitri nodded. Already his heart was beginning to pound, his palms turning clammy. "I—had the same dream again," he said in a halting voice. "S-several times, in fact." He glanced up, anxious to see Claude's reaction, but the other man merely watched him with a calm expression, an encouraging tilt at the corner of his mouth. Dimitri cleared his throat, and continued. "The—the first time, you were watching, while the other men—claimed me." He paused, swallowing, touching his bottom lip with his tongue. "The second, you were there again, but you made the other men leave, and you—you began to take me by force, the way you did before."

Without speaking, Claude reached out and placed his hand over Dimitri's wrist, holding him gently. Dimitri took his hand and held it between his own. 

"I—when I woke up, I—" Dimitri paused, his face flushing more deeply.

"You liked it," Claude prompted, when he couldn't continue. 

Dimitri nodded.

"You wanted me to know?"

Dimitri licked his lower lip again. "I thought about what you said. About—play acting my dream. With you."

Claude waited several moments before responding, as though waiting to see if Dimitri had more to say. "Is that something you want to try?" he asked eventually. "And not just for my benefit?"

"No, no," Dimitri said, shaking his head and squeezing Claude's fingers tightly. "I mean—yes, I do. For myself. If—if you would be amenable?"

"Amenable," Claude said, laughing softly. He leaned in and kissed the corner of Dimitri's mouth softly. "I'm always amenable to you, my love."

"Don't tease!" Dimitri protested.

Claude grinned. "I'm not, I swear." He gave Dimitri's fingers another fond squeeze. "But I can tell you were nervous about asking me. I'm very happy that you did."

"Then—you are not...disgusted with me?"

"Oh," Claude sighed, his brow crumpling. "No, beloved. Never." 

Dimitri tugged him closer, pressing his face against Claude's neck, and folding his arms about the other man's waist. Claude held him, soothing him with a hand that moved slowly over his back. 

"Anytime you feel ready," Claude said softly. "Give me warning, and I'd be happy to help you...explore that."

"Thank you," Dimitri murmured thickly. He was still giddy with nerves, but at Claude's final words, he felt his stomach turn molten in anticipation. 

—

They finally got their chance a week later, after a great deal of discussion that made Dimitri blush, and after Claude had spent an afternoon on _secret preparations_ , which it seemed consisted of him disguising one of the guest rooms as a cell in which to keep Dimitri prisoner. 

He'd located a fine chain, which he gave to Dimitri to test before securing both his wrists with manacles and looping the chain through an iron ring in the floor. The key he placed on a table, making sure that Dimitri could reach it should he need to.

The room was lit by several candles, but Claude planned to extinguish most before they began, to better set the scene from Dimitri's dream. Dimitri looked down at his bound hands, and suppressed a shudder. Although it had been years since his captivity, this was something his body remembered. He glanced over at the key again, and shifted his weight where he stood. He was already nude, and uncomfortably slick between his legs, having already prepared himself for Claude's onslaught. In his dream, the man always took him with force, without preparing him at all, and Claude had suggested they stay as close to that experience as they could, without causing him significant harm. 

"Hmm," Claude hummed, tapping his chin. "How will you tell me to stop?"

Dimitri frowned. "I'll just tell you."

"That doesn't seem wise, not given what you've told me of your fantasy. Wouldn't you tell him to stop if you could?" Claude asked, watching him shrewdly. "The man from your dream?"

"Ah," Dimitri murmured, colouring. "Yes, perhaps."

"But would you really want him to stop?"

Dimitri swallowed. They were venturing back into territory that made hot shame curdle in his throat. He shook his head. 

"Then we need some way for you to give me a signal," Claude said, nodding to himself. Perhaps a particular word or phrase?"

"A phrase?"

"Something you'd never say in the heat of the moment," Claude explained, watching him with a thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly he grinned. "What was it you were holding in that sketch Ignatz made? A flower?"

Dimitri swallowed. "A daffodil?"

"Daffodil," Claude mused. "They grow in Faerghus?"

"Yes."

"Should we use that?" Claude asked, watching him carefully. "If you want me to stop, you'll say 'daffodil'?"

Dimitri nodded. "Very well."

"Perfect!" Claude said, looking pleased with himself. He looked Dimitri over once more, and tested the chain and manacles, ensuring they weren't too tight. This done, he cupped Dimitri's face, and urged him down into a kiss. "Are you sure about this, my love?"

"...Yes," Dimitri said, with only a moment's hesitation.

Claude nodded. "And if you wish me to stop…?"

"Daffodil," Dimitri replied. 

Claude held his gaze, his expression unusually serious. "So I won't stop if you tell me no," he said, searching Dimitri's face, "or if you ask me to stop, or if you beg…"

"I know." 

"Very well," Claude said, giving him another swift kiss before backing away. "I'll leave a candle burning. When I come back in, I won't be me."

Dimitri swallowed down the pit of nerves at the back of his throat. "I know," he said again.

They stared at one another for a few more fraught seconds, then Claude turned away. He extinguished the lamps but for one, plunging the room into near-darkness, and then he left quietly. Dimitri flexed his wrists against the manacles. A minute passed, and then another. He wondered if he should sit, or stay standing. He wondered if this truly was a good idea at all. Still, Claude kept him waiting. Dimitri closed his eye and tried to relax, letting his shoulders sink, his knees unlock. 

Several minutes had passed before he finally heard heavy steps outside the door, and then the creak of it opening slowly. When Dimitri opened his eyes, he found that Claude had changed his clothing. What he wore was nondescript, something like a soldier's garb, but without any identifying heraldry or design. It was, however, most reminiscent of light Adrestian armour. 

"The boar prince," Claude said in a deep-voiced growl, much unlike his usual voice. He stalked closer to Dimitri, his movements predatory. "On your knees, prisoner."

When Dimitri hesitated to obey, Claude hooked his foot through Dimitri's chain and stamped it to the ground, wrenching his arms down. 

"I said get on your knees," he spat.

Dimitri knelt, hanging his head. As Claude stepped closer, Dimitri could smell the oil on his leather armour, and a scent like pine and blood. 

"Pretty mouth," Claude murmured, gripping his chin. He pressed his thumb down on Dimitri's lower lip, pushing down, forcing his mouth open. 

Dimitri tried to grit his teeth, refusing to open his jaw.

"Open up," Claude growled, seizing a handful of Dimitri's hair. He pulled Dimitri's head back, and Dimitri opened his mouth in a shocked gasp. Claude didn't say anything. He used his free hand to unfasten his trousers, then pushed his cock against Dimitri's mouth, folding down his lower lip. Dimitri relaxed at the familiar shape and size, the scent of Claude that he knew and loved. He let his mouth hang open, unresisting as Claude pushed his cock inside, thrusting against his tongue.

Dimitri closed his eyes and sank into the sensation of Claude's cock slipping in and out of his mouth, the faint ache of Claude's fingers tugging his hair. Despite his bindings, Dimitri felt quite secure, enjoying the weight of Claude's hand on his head.

Just as he had begun to fall into a rhythm, Claude abruptly pulled out. He walked away slowly. Dimitri's shoulders tensed, the chains clinking as he shifted on the spot. There was more to come, he knew it, but he couldn't hear where Claude had gone. He turned his head, trying to find him, but it was no use. Dimitri cleared his throat, swallowing the sticky taste of Claude's cock from the back of his tongue. 

Suddenly, a hand clasped the back of his neck, cool fingers firm against his skin. Dimitri went rigid. This, his body knew. Ice rippled down his spine. He opened his mouth again, but he could only make mere scrapings of sound. 

The hand fisted in his hair again and pulled sharply. When Dimitri didn't move, it pulled harder. He got clumsily to his feet. He tugged at the chains. 

"Spread your legs," a voice behind him spat, and a resounding slap on his upper thigh made him jump. 

Dimitri wet his lips. His heart hammered painfully against his chest. "No, I—" 

"I said open your legs, whore," the man said angrily. 

When Dimitri failed to react, a hand seized tightly in his hair, wrenching his head back.

"Listen to me, Princeling," the voice growled. "I'm going to take what I came for one way or the other."

Dimitri said nothing. He'd forgotten how to speak. He clumsily moved his feet apart, didn't resist as the man put a hand between his shoulders and shoved him forward, as he felt the hot, insistent press of the man's prick against his backside. 

Darkness fell over him. A cold, hollow sensation he hadn't felt in years. It swelled, filling his chest, yawning open to fill his guts, drawing everything down into it, every good thing, every happy memory. All was darkness. All was black and wretched and wicked and—

Dimitri came awake again to a muffled sound of pain; a crack, and a low grunt. Forgetting that he was bound, he reached up to tear off the blindfold, only to find that his hands were free after all, the broken ends of the chain dangling from each of his wrists.

"Dimitri," Claude said, his voice tight and laboured. He crouched on the floor, half naked, while Dimitri stood over him like a spectre. "Dimitri, beloved—can you—can you hear me, my love?"

"...Claude?" Dimitri whispered.

Claude sagged with relief. "You're okay."

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Claude said, shaking his head. He lifted his right hand. "Help me up."

Bewildered, Dimitri offered his hand, and pulled Claude to his feet. His own hands were shaking, and his breathing was shallow and fast. Claude, despite his state of undress, was composed. Unusually so, in fact, for someone who'd been in the throes of passion moments earlier.

"What—" Dimitri ventured. "Are you—alright?"

Claude's jaw tightened. "I'll be fine."

Dimitri's heart started to race again. "Claude," he said, his voice coming out thin and anxious. Claude was holding his right arm against his stomach, but when Dimitri tried to reach out and take his hand, Claude pulled out of reach with a very small, but very noticeable flinch. 

It was clear that it had been unintentional. As soon as he realised what he'd done, Claude pasted on a false smile, turning his eyes to Dimitri. "Would you ask a servant to fetch me some tea?"

Dimitri frowned at him. Claude was pale, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. "What's the matter?"

"Dimitri—"

"Tell me!" Dimitri said, too loud. 

Claude didn't flinch a second time. "When you call for tea," he said carefully, "perhaps you might ask them to send for Maturin. We'll go and meet her in our rooms."

Dimitri's stomach curdled. "Why do you need a healer?" he asked, his throat stinging.

"Because I think you may have broken my arm, my love," Claude said tightly. 

A soft, wretched sound broke loose from Dimitri's throat. 

"Dimitri," Claude said, reaching out with his good hand. He placed it against Dimitri's cheek. "Dimitri, look at me."

"I—I—" 

"This wasn't your fault," Claude said sharply. "I know you're upset, but I need your help just now. Can you help me?"

Dimitri swallowed down the burning in his throat, and took a shaky breath to settle himself. He nodded. 

"Good boy. Now, please. Tea, and Maturin, and then you can help me get some normal clothes on, before we spark even more tawdry rumours about our escapades." He hummed thoughtfully. "You should probably take off those chains as well."

Dimitri said nothing. He couldn't speak, and he didn't understand how Claude could joke about it, not when he himself was barely restraining the urge to be sick. 

"The key is there," Claude said, nodding to the table. It had, as Dimitri well knew, been within arm's reach the entire time. 

After several attempts, battling against his still-shaking fingers, Dimitri unlocked the broken chains from around his wrists and put them aside. He dressed himself, and went in search of a servant to carry out Claude's request, then he returned to the room and helped Claude to sit and dress, moving mechanically, unable to meet the other man's eyes. They rose without speaking, and walked back to their rooms. Dimitri led Claude to the bed and made him sit, and had scarcely turned around before there was a knock on the door.

A servant entered and set out the tea things, and the healer soon followed, leaving them no chance to speak. 

Claude was cavalier about the injury, passing it off as a flying accident, despite knowing that he couldn't possibly be believed. Maturin, ever brusque, seemed unconcerned with how he'd injured himself, only with setting the break and urging the bones to begin mending. At one point, however, she glanced up at Dimitri, who was pacing like a caged animal. 

"With respect, Highness," she said dryly, "your pacing is enough to drive a woman to distraction. It's a simple break. A week or so of rest will see him right."

Dimitri said nothing. Claude hadn't made a sound as the healer went about her work, except to keep up a stream of meaningless chatter, but Dimitri knew him well enough to hear the strain beneath his words. 

"There," he said now, looking up at Dimitri. "You see? No harm done."

"No harm," Dimitri spat. His throat seized with the urge to retch, but he swallowed it down. He looked from Claude's frown, to Maturin's curious gaze, and his stomach lurched again. "No, I—no," he said fiercely, and fled. 

Claude called after him, but Dimitri barely heard. He didn't belong here. Had _never_ belonged here. Claude was a fool for letting Dimitri get close to him. He stalked along the hallways, unseeing. He walked with purpose, but without destination. All he could think of was that he needed to get away from Claude. As far away as possible. He thought of taking his horse, but soon felt the sting of rain on his face, and found himself standing upon the battlements, blunting his nails on the stone at the edge of the wall. 

It was cold. His hair began to stick to his face as the rain continued to lash into him. The valley was dark below him, silent and empty. It reminded him of the darkness he'd fallen into when Claude touched him. He'd hoped never to feel that darkness again. 

"—mitri."

Dimitri blinked. 

"Dimitri!" 

He turned his head slowly. Claude stood a short distance away, his left arm bound across his chest, and his robe draped loosely around his shoulders. 

"Claude—?" Dimitri ventured, his voice cracked and dry. 

"What are you doing?" Claude asked. His gaze darted to the wall, the blackness beyond. "Dimitri…?"

Dimitri swallowed. "I—I don't—"

"Come away," Claude said, gesturing him closer. "Come on, my love."

Dimitri took a step away from the wall, and almost collapsed, his knees weakened by standing in one place for so long. His fingers ached from being held in one place so long; when he looked down, his nails were bleeding. 

"I..."

"Come inside," Claude said again, his voice gentle but firm. 

Dimitri allowed Claude to lead him back to their chambers, where he stripped out of his wet clothing and changed into the clean, soft things Claude had laid out for him. This done, he found himself lost once more, until Claude took his wrist and led him to the bed. 

"Dimitri," Claude said softly. 

Dimitri closed his eyes. 

Claude reached out with his uninjured arm and brushed Dimitri's hair out of his eyes. "Dimitri."

"...I'm sorry," Dimitri whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"What happened?"

"I—" Dimitri began, but trailed off, shaking his head. 

Claude spoke softly. "You don't have to talk, just nod or shake your head."

After a moment's hesitation, Dimitri nodded.

"You were different, when I moved behind you."

Again, Dimitri nodded. 

"I didn't know what it meant, and I should have stopped and asked you. I'm sorry."

Dimitri grimaced. It hadn't been Claude's fault, not at all, but he had no idea how to begin expressing that. 

"I know I asked you this before," Claude ventured in a soft voice. "But when you were—imprisoned, before."

"No," Dimitri said, before Claude could continue.

But Claude brushed aside his protests. "I need you to tell me," he said, his voice stern. "Did any of them rape you?"

Dimitri hesitated, then shook his head. 

"Did anyone threaten to use you in that manner?"

Dimitri's mouth twisted. He nodded. 

"Did they try?"

"...Once," Dimitri admitted. "I fought him off. I—I killed him." 

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Then I'm grateful you were more merciful this time."

Dimitri's throat ached. He wrung his hands together tightly, enough that they began to hurt. "Don't," he whispered, hanging his head. "Don't—joke about it. I would sooner die than harm you."

"Is that what you were doing on the roof?"

Dimitri lifted his head, startled. Claude stared back at him, cool and unblinking.

"I—don't know," Dimitri admitted, glancing away again. "I wasn't thinking. I—wasn't aware."

Claude made a thoughtful sound. "Before, when we were play acting. Was it the same?"

"What—what do you mean?"

"Were you aware? After you… _reacted_ , it seemed as if you weren't. I was calling to you for a minute or so before you heard me."

Dimitri worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He remembered the comforting weight of Claude's hand on his head, of his cock in his mouth. How different it had felt to have Claude behind him, the things he'd said. "It was—as if it wasn't just an act anymore," he said slowly. "A-as though I were really back there. I—I wasn't even aware of you being there, I couldn't speak, I…" He grimaced, his face crumpling. He dropped his head and buried it in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Claude, please forgive me, I'm s—"

"Hush, my love," Claude whispered. He moved closer, putting his uninjured arm around Dimitri's shoulders, and pressing his forehead to Dimitri's shoulder. "Hush now. You're safe. I forgive you."

At his words, Dimitri began to weep into his hands. Before long they hitched into painful, wracking sobs, but Claude only held him tighter, shushing and soothing him gently as he wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** This fic deals with implied non-con elements, and psychological trauma. 
> 
> Dimitri has a recurring dream in which he is sexually assaulted. He and Claude recreate this Scene with consent and safety measures, but Dimitri has flashbacks to real trauma related to captivity. He disassociates and injures Claude.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware there are updated **warnings** in the chapter end notes!!
> 
>   
> Thank you to wolves for helping me to bring this one home, ilu buddy

Dimitri rose unusually late the following day. Of the two of them, Claude had always been a late riser, so it was a shock to wake and find the bed empty beside him. Dimitri's head was heavy and dull, and his face still felt dry and hot from weeping the night before. Pushing these concerns aside, Dimitri stumbled from the bedchamber, Claude's name on his lips.

"I'm here, beloved," Claude called to him. He was in his own bedchamber, on the other side of their shared rooms, which typically saw very little use beyond Claude using it as a makeshift library. 

The bed was, as usual, covered with books and scrolls, but a small space had been made for Claude, while Maturin examined his arm. 

"H-how is he?" Dimitri asked in a shaking voice, shame making him feel weak and foolish once more. 

"He will do very well," the healer answered before Claude could respond. "Providing he _rests_ for the next week or so," she added, glaring at Claude.

Claude laughed uncomfortably, and ran his free hand through his hair. "But rest is so boring," he protested weakly. 

"I will ensure that he rests," Dimitri said in a solemn tone. 

Maturin nodded to herself as she stood. She looked Dimitri over, and her stern face softened. "Do not worry, Highness," she said, her voice low. "I promise, your husband is in no danger."

Dimitri's mouth was dry, but he forced himself to swallow past the stickiness in his throat and thank her for her assistance. As she took her leave, Claude gestured for him to come closer. Dimitri crossed the remaining distance and dropped to his knees beside the bed, putting his arms around Claude's waist and laying his head in the other man's lap.

"You see?" Claude murmured, brushing Dimitri's hair back from his face with gentle fingers. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Dimitri closed his eyes. "I thought I had learned to control it," he said very softly. 

"I know," Claude said softly, "but, next time—"

"Next time!" Dimitri said in horror, sitting up. He stared up at Claude, taking in his weary, ashen face. It was clear he hadn't slept much, if at all. Dimitri's stomach churned horribly. "What if next time I'm standing over your corpse?" he demanded, hysteria creeping into the edges of his tone. He could feel the blackness lapping at the edges of his mind. "What then?" he continued, choking on a sob, "i-if I—w-what w-would I do—I'd d-die, Claude—I'd die."

Claude stared back at him for several moments, his lips parted as though he meant to reply, but couldn't find the words. Then, to Dimitri's horror, his face crumpled. "Please—please don't say that," he whispered. 

Dimitri's eyes widened. "Claude—"

"I'm sorry," Claude whispered, his expression agonised. "I'm so sorry, I was careless. Please don't blame yourself. Please—don't tell me that you'd—"

"Claude," Dimitri hissed, clutching at him. He cupped Claude's face, leaning in to press his wet cheek to Claude's. "You didn't—it was not—"

"I promised you," Claude said harshly, grimacing when Dimitri pulled away from him again. "I promised I wouldn't let you hurt me. I failed you."

Dimitri shook his head. "Claude—"

Claude tipped his head back and drew in a ragged breath. He passed a hand over his face slowly, and when he met Dimitri's gaze again, it was with a faint smile. "Don't argue with me, my love," he joked. "Let me bear the responsibility of my actions for once."

Dimitri opened his mouth to argue that he didn't know anyone who took on more responsibility than Claude did, then closed it again at Claude's raised eyebrow. He lowered his head instead, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the warmth of Claude's belly. 

"Let's take a walk later," Claude murmured, stroking his hair again. "We could both use some fresh air, hm?"

"Alright," Dimitri croaked. 

Claude laughed weakly. "Alright."

—

Although it was clear that Claude's injury couldn't have been a flying accident as he claimed—Claude may have been good at sneaking around, but even he couldn't have snuck an entire wyvern past the stablehands unseen—talk around the household died down quickly, perhaps aided by an impromptu visit from Lord Goneril and his sister, which sparked incessant rumour for an entire week, thanks to Lord Holst's tendency to flirt unapologetically with Claude, even in front of his husband. 

Dimitri had long grown used to the behaviour, and was not usually troubled by it, but he felt unusually protective of Claude since the injury, and Holst's over-solicitous behaviour—offering Claude his arm, or volunteering to carry things for him—was enough to have Dimitri all but snarling at the man.

"Don't mind my brother," Hilda said, taking his elbow. It was a week into their visit, and Claude had suggested the four of them venture outside, since Dimitri was barely able to keep a civil tongue around Holst any longer. They were walking along the valley, knee deep in wet grass, and Claude and Holst strode ahead, laughing together while Claude clung to Holst with his good arm. 

"Mind what?" Dimitri asked, his voice false to his own ears.

Hilda gave an unladylike snort. "He doesn't mean it," she said, gesturing at the other two men. "Well…he does, he's always had a little thing for Claude, but he doesn't expect anything. And Claude loves to tease, but he's one of the most loyal people I've ever met."

"I—thank you," Dimitri muttered. He wasn't sure how to explain his ill feeling, given that it came not so much from Holst's behaviour, as his own inexcusable actions. 

"Something else is bothering you," Hilda observed, with the kind of infuriating acuity that Dimitri always forgot to expect from her, but which made it abundantly clear why she was Claude's closest friend. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Dimitri frowned. "That is kind of you, but—"

"If you share, I'll tell you something embarrassing about Holst."

He paused, surprised.

Hilda looked up at him and winked. "What do you say? Have I tempted you?"

Dimitri laughed softly. "A little." He glanced up at the others. Claude looked over his shoulder at the same moment, and his face lit with a brilliant smile. Dimitri waved, then lowered his gaze, aware of Hilda's expectant eyes on him. "It's—" he began, faltering "You're aware that I have—difficulty sometimes, controlling my strength."

"Oh!" Hilda said, her pretty eyes widening. "It was _you_ that broke his arm."

"Ah," Dimitri muttered, wincing as hot shame coated the inside of his chest. "Yes.  
It was an accid—"

"Sparring or lovemaking?" Hilda interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He won't tell me," she said, smiling sweetly. "Were you sparring together, or making the beast with two backs?"

Colour flooded Dimitri's face. "I—is that relevant?"

"No," she admitted airily. "But it answers my question."

Dimitri huffed. "You and Claude have a great deal in common."

Hilda giggled. "Should I be flattered?"

"Naturally."

"You're sweet." She gave his arm a squeeze. "I think you two are more alike than you realise though. You're not the only one feeling guilty about whatever happened."

Dimitri's mouth flattened. "I know. He blames himself, but it was my fault."

"I thought you said it was an accident?"

"Well, yes...but—"

"But it's still your fault?"

Dimitri was momentarily frozen by her words. He paused, and the two stopped walking, standing together for a moment on a small rise. It took him several moments to gather his scattered thoughts, but Hilda didn't press, merely stood watching Claude and Holst's retreating backs until Dimitri finally blew out a frustrated breath. 

"I spent—too long," he began, wincing. "Not...taking responsibility for my actions."

Hilda shook her head. "We all did things we aren't proud of, Dimitri, and you had more reason than most."

"That—but I—"

"You're so generous with the people you love," she said gently. "Couldn't you offer yourself a little of that kindness?"

Dimitri's throat was tight. His eyes burned in the wind. "That—" he managed thickly. "I—I could try."

Hilda hugged his arm tightly. "I think Claude would like it."

Dimitri couldn't speak. He watched Claude, the carefree way he laughed at something Holst had said.

"I only wish to make him happy," he whispered.

"Then I have to say," Hilda said, winking again, "you couldn't be doing a better job." She took his arm once more, and Dimitri allowed himself to be steered, grateful that she didn't remark on his sniffling. 

—

The next day, after the Goneril siblings had departed, Maturin cleared Claude for some light exercise to strengthen his freshly healed arm, and he immediately insisted on heading outside for some target practice. Dimitri followed, despite Claude's protests that he didn't need minding. 

"You and Hilda were very cosy," Claude remarked, as they walked along a deer track through the dense trees. They reached a clearing momentarily, and Claude removed his bow from his shoulder. "I hope she wasn't trying to make you spill any secrets."

Dimitri shook his head. "Actually, she told me some rather amusing things about Lord Goneril."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"She...thought I might be jealous," he confessed.

"You _were_ jealous," Claude said coolly. He turned his back on Dimitri, raising his bow. He notched an arrow and drew back the bowstring with his left hand. The bow wavered for a moment, then steadied. Claude held the draw for several seconds, then released the arrow with a _whum_. It flew straight, and stuck, quivering, in the trunk of a large ash tree. 

Dimitri cleared his throat.

"Shh," Claude hissed without turning his head. He passed the bow to his other hand, and took another arrow from his quiver. As he notched it and began to draw with his right hand, Dimitri held his breath. 

Claude's arm trembled, making the bow shudder in his hands. He paused, releasing the string slowly, and shook out his arm and shoulder before attempting it a second time. Again, Dimitri held his breath as Claude drew back the bowstring, but his fingers had barely reached his chest before the string released with an empty-sounding _twang_ , while the arrow flew only a dozen feet before disappearing into the brush. 

"Goddess's _tits_ ," Claude swore, letting his head fall back with a soft exhalation. 

Dimitri clenched and unclenched his fingers at his sides. The forest grew louder to fill the silence, a low susurrus of chirping, rustling, skittering, over which he could clearly hear Claude's tightly controlled breathing. "I'm sure," Dimitri ventured quietly, "once you've had a little more time to heal…"

"I don't need your platitudes," Claude spat.

"Ah—" Dimitri recoiled, clenching his fists again tightly. "I'm sorry."

Claude gritted his teeth. "No," he said after several moments. He heaved a sigh, and turned his head toward Dimitri. "Don't apologise. There's no excuse for me to take my frustration out on you."

"You have every right," Dimitri argued. 

"Gods," Claude burst out, with a humourless laugh. "Are you really so desperate to be unhappy?"

Dimitri bit the inside of his cheek, grinding it between his teeth as he chewed over what Claude had said, trying to find his meaning. "What—what are you saying?" 

Claude shook his head. "At worst, we were both careless. What do you gain by trying to shoulder all the blame yourself?"

"I—"

"It's pointless to torture yourself over something you can't change," Claude continued. "Better to put that energy toward making things better."

Dimitri swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I'm trying, Claude."

"I know, I know," Claude said with a wretched groan. He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly agitated. "I'm sorry. Again. I fear I'm out of sorts today."

"I should leave you to your solitude," Dimitri murmured, although he didn't yet move. 

Claude sighed again heavily. "No," he said, shouldering his bow once more. "You're right, I need to be patient." He walked over to where Dimitri stood and placed a hand on his arm. "Forgive me."

Dimitri shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive." Seeing the lingering unhappiness in Claude's eyes, Dimitri longed to embrace him, but he was unsure it would be welcome in that moment. "Did you want to return home?" he asked instead, gesturing back the way they'd walked.

"Very well," Claude agreed, beginning to move that way. "If I can't shoot, at least I can fly."

Dimitri frowned. "Are you sure—" he began, but trailed off at a sharp glance from Claude. "As you will," he said instead. 

—

Claude's mood lifted as the days passed and his arm returned to full strength. One night Dimitri returned from some business to find Claude in their rooms, surrounded by piles of clothing and books in disarray.

"What's this?"

"You're back!" Claude cheered, tripping over a case in his hurry to greet him. He embraced Dimitri warmly, pulling him down to kiss him. "Mm, welcome home."

Dimitri blinked. "Thank you for the welcome." He glanced around at the mess. "Are you going somewhere?"

Claude's face clouded. "I'm needed in Almyra. The situation has gotten more unstable."

"Ah," Dimitri managed, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face. 

Claude, of course, noticed at once. "I'm sorry to go," he said, giving Dimitri another brief kiss before he resumed arranging his things. "I've put it off as long as I can."

"Don't be silly," Dimitri said, beginning to divest himself of his travel clothes. "If you must go, then go."

As Dimitri prepared for bed and Claude wrestled his things into some semblance of an order, they talked idly, avoiding the topic of the political tensions that were taking Claude away again so soon. When he'd washed and changed, Dimitri sat on the edge of the bed and watched Claude work. Although spring was just beginning to bloom in Fódlan, Almyra would already be warm, and he watched Claude pack lighter clothing with a faint hint of longing. He thought back fondly to Claude's old dancer's outfit, and wondered if he'd had it mended yet. 

Claude glanced over, a smile playing around his lips. "You're thinking of something pleasant."

Dimitri laughed awkwardly. "I confess," he murmured, reaching out for his husband. "I was thinking of you in those dancer's silks again."

"Indeed?" Coming closer, Claude climbed into Dimitri's lap, sitting astride his thighs. "Perhaps we could revisit it when I return…" He paused and sighed. "Although I shall no doubt be fat from all the feasting."

"I would enjoy that," Dimitri said, wrapping his hands around Claude's hips. 

Claude chuckled softly. He cupped his hands around Dimitri's face and, sighing, touched their foreheads together. "I'm going to miss you."

"Shall you be gone long?" 

"I don't know, my love. A few weeks, at least. Things are...precarious, of late."

"Since the Ambassador's...accident?"

Claude snorted. "Exactly. The ritual mourning period is almost over, so the council should be about the business of appointing someone new, but I expect they're going to drag it out. I'll be amazed if anyone's in place by the end of Horsebow Moon."

"Are you concerned?"

"...A little," Claude admitted, sighing. He slid his arms around Dimitri's neck, and shifted closer to him, settling his attractive backside against Dimitri's groin in a way that was rather distracting. "Mostly I'm just annoyed."

"O-oh?" Dimitri managed, gripping Claude's thighs more tightly. 

"Mm," Claude hummed. He leaned in to brush his lips against Dimitri's cheek. "Annoyed that it's taking me away from you again so soon."

Dimitri sighed. "Claude…"

"I want you," Claude said, rolling his hips slowly as he trailed his mouth along Dimitri's jaw. "Let me give you something to remember me by, mm?"

"I'm not going to forget you," Dimitri promised, laughing breathlessly.

Claude grinned. "Not when I'm finished with you," he vowed. He pressed his mouth close to Dimitri's ear, hot breath stirring the fine hairs on his neck. "On your hands and knees for me, kitten."

Dimitri shuddered. "What're you going to do?"

"I'm going to put my tongue inside you," Claude growled. "And then, if you're very lucky, I might even give you my fingers too."

"Oh, please," Dimitri groaned, clutching him tightly once more. They'd been intimate together only a handful of times since their failed attempt at recreating his dream, and each time had been rushed, clumsy, and Claude hadn't made any offer to play the stallion with him since that night. "I don't—I don't just want your fingers," Dimitri said in a small voice.

Claude paused, going still. "Oh no?"

"I think you should—that is, I _want_ you to—fuck me."

Drawing back, Claude blinked at him slowly, one eyebrow raised. Dimitri rarely used such language, while Claude took great delight in scandalising him with his own foul mouth. "Are you certain?"

"You said you would give me something to remember you," Dimitri said, drawing him closer again, rolling his own hips up to meet Claude's, pressing their erections together. "This is what I want to remember. Not—not that dream. Not hurting you. I want this."

Claude gave him a lopsided smile, and leaned in to kiss him briefly. "Hands and knees," he whispered.

They rearranged themselves, laughing at their own clumsy movements, and Dimitri undressed before settling on his knees and elbows on the bed. Claude armed himself with a bottle of oil and moved behind him, seating himself between Dimitri's spread knees. He wasted little time teasing for a change, and instead applied himself eagerly to wringing as much noise out of Dimitri as he could. 

He spread Dimitri's buttocks apart with both hands, and ran his tongue down from the base of his spine to his hole. 

"Ah—!" Dimitri gasped, clenching his fingers in the sheets, thighs tensing. "Mm, Claude…"

Claude chuckled, warm breath tickling his skin. "That's it, beautiful. I'm gonna take care of you."

He licked over Dimitri's hole again, then settled in to sate himself, licking and sucking slowly, until Dimitri was trembling all over. A part of him longed to touch himself, but he didn't want to rush, wanting instead to let Claude dictate the pace of the encounter. Still, he was beginning to grow impatient when Claude finally reached for the oil, and began to work a finger inside him.

Dimitri shuddered in anticipation. "Claude, yes—"

"You've been so patient for me," Claude murmured, kissing the small of his back. He pressed in slowly, grinding his finger in deep. "Is that good?"

" _Yes_ ," Dimitri sighed, pressing back into his touch. "I can take more, please—"

Claude stroked another finger inside of him, twisting them gently, laying more kisses along Dimitri's spine. "You're so beautiful. I've missed this."

Dimitri groaned, squirming at the compliment. "Claude—"

"It's true," Claude murmured. He slid his other hand between Dimitri's legs and circled his cock with them, stroking him slowly. "My beautiful love. I love to see you like this."

"D-don't tease," Dimitri complained, turning his head to glare. "I'm ready, don't tarry."

Claude chuckled. "I know the goddess was much more generous when she made you," he teased, "but you still require a _little_ preparation before I mount you."

Dimitri made a frustrated sound in his throat, and pushed back onto Claude's fingers insistently. "Please," he begged, despite knowing that Claude was right. He pulled at the sheets below him, twisting them between his fingers. 

Claude laughed again under his breath, but thankfully he didn't keep Dimitri waiting much longer. When they finally made love it was slow and tender, facing one another and as close as they could manage. 

They lay together after, gazing at one another, enjoying the glow. Content as he was, Dimitri's mind began to stray back to Claude's words, after their failed attempt to explore his fantasy. He couldn't deny that he was curious still, despite the risks. 

"What's on your mind?" Claude asked, toying with his fingers.

"What makes you think there's something on my mind?"

Claude grinned. "I know that look. What is it?"

"When you get back," Dimitri said, his voice almost a whisper. "I was thinking of—the fantasy I had. That is—you said we might—if you—"

Claude touched his cheek very softly with his knuckles. "Are you asking me if we can try again?"

Dimitri grimaced. "I only—you said that you would...subdue me."

For several moments, Claude didn't speak. He held Dimitri's gaze without wavering. Dimitri forced himself to look back, unflinching, letting Claude search his expression for whatever it was he needed. 

"Are you asking because you wish it?" Claude asked at last, his voice a little stern. "Or because you think I do?"

"I'm asking for myself," Dimitri said, watching him carefully. 

Claude breathed out slowly. "Are you certain you can trust me? I failed you once."

"You won't fail me," Dimitri insisted. He caught hold of Claude's hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles softly. "I would trust you with my life."

"And with my own?"

Dimitri swallowed. He nodded slowly. 

Nose wrinkling in thought, Claude rolled over onto his back, and gave a little hum. "I have some ideas," he mused, his tone contemplative. "Mm, perhaps I could—"

"Don't tell me," Dimitri said quickly.

Claude glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "Are you sure?"

"I want—whatever you do, I want it to feel real. Just as long—"

"As long as you can't hurt me, I know." Claude flashed him a rueful grin. "That's quite a tall order."

"I'm sorry—"

"No, no," Claude said, dismissing his apology with an impatient wave. "It's an interesting challenge. I'm eager to try." 

Dimitri rolled onto his back also, turning his gaze to the ceiling. There was no use trying to hide his embarrassment from Claude, so he didn't attempt it. "I'm—afraid," he confessed in a soft voice.

"Of me?" Claude whispered back.

"Not—exactly."

Claude reached for him, gently slipping his arms around Dimitri's shoulders again, and drawing Dimitri's face down to his chest. They relaxed into one another, and Dimitri let out the breath he was holding slowly. Claude's chest rose and fell beneath his cheek, his chest hair tickling Dimitri's face pleasantly. 

"The last time," Claude mused, just as Dimitri was beginning to feel as if he might fall asleep. "Perhaps we made it too real. Too close to something you'd experienced in the past."

His words rolled around inside Dimitri's head. He remembered the sensation of the manacles around his wrists, the screech of metal as the chain gave between his hands. Dimitri wet his lips. "Perhaps, yes." 

Claude cupped his head and kissed the top of his hair. "Don't worry, I won't make that mistake next time."

"Then—how do you know it will really frighten me?" Dimitri asked, face heating. 

"Because I know you," Claude rumbled, his fingers gentle in Dimitri's hair. "And I know myself."

Dimitri huffed. He could hardly deny that Claude knew him better than anyone. Better than he knew himself, some days. 

"When I return then," Claude said softly.

Dimitri acknowledged his words with a nod, then tilted his head up to capture Claude's mouth with his own. "I shall miss you," he whispered.

Claude smiled against his lips. "And I you."

—

Claude left at dawn the following morning. He didn't wake Dimitri, at least not on purpose, parting from him with a soft kiss before making his way down to the stables. 

The next fortnight passed slowly. Dimitri had plenty to keep him occupied, yet he still found himself yearning for Claude often, even to the point that his valet pointedly remarked that it had been considerable time since his Highness had entertained a visitor.

Claude wrote him three letters over the course of his stay in Almyra, each of them made up of several pages that had clearly been added to over several days, whenever he found a spare moment. Dimitri read them over and over, until the paper was dogeared. The political situation in Almyra had proved as tangled as Claude had predicted, if not more so, and soon a fortnight became a month, and then six long, lonely weeks. 

Felix visited after the fifth week, and took one look at Dimitri's fidgeting before ordering him out of the house. The two of them packed some supplies and took Dimitri's horses out into the valley. It was early in Harpstring Moon, and the weather was temperate, perfect for exploring the wilds. Felix was, likewise, an ideal companion. He kept Dimitri busy and distracted, without expecting him to hold a lengthy conversation, and showing his customary lack of desire to discuss relationship matters. The one attempt Dimitri made at asking after Sylvain was neatly rebuffed, with only a moderate threat of violence.

They rode and hiked, and slept under the stars for several nights before returning, with some reluctance, to their responsibilities. 

Felix's departure the next day was followed by the arrival of another missive from Claude, this one much shorter than his previous offerings.

_I hope to return three days hence._

_Ever Yours,  
Claude_

Dimitri's stomach fizzed at the knowledge that his husband would return so soon. He did his best to distract himself in the ensuing days; training for hours, and taking long walks. Even reading some of the books Claude had left behind, though he found most of them either bemusing or appallingly dry. He did what he could to stop himself from maintaining a non-stop vigil on the roof in anticipation of Claude's return. 

He was sleeping when a servant was finally sent to notify him, his head pillowed on a pile of open books, and he couldn't help feeling amused that he'd been discovered in such a position while waiting for Claude. In his distraction, it took him a moment to understand what the servant had said.

"I'm sorry," he said, as the servant made to retreat. "Could you just repeat that?"

"Uh, Your Highness," the servant said, pausing to clear his throat once more. "Ah, the, uh…"

Dimitri frowned. "What is it? Has my husband returned or not?"

The servant swallowed. "The Almyran Ambassador is here, Your Highness."

"The—" Dimitri began, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "You mean...someone's been appointed?" 

"That's the message I was asked to give you, Highness," the servant continued, looking deeply uncomfortable. "Will you greet the Ambassador?"

For several moments, Dimitri just stared back at the servant, bewildered. It made little sense that someone should have been appointed so soon, or that if they had, the first place they should choose to come was to Claude and Dimitri's home, particularly without invitation. Stranger still that they should arrive without Claude, or any warning from him. 

"Your Royal Highness?"

"Well...yes, of course I will greet the Ambassador," Dimitri said, frowning. "I shall be down presently."

After tidying his appearance briefly, Dimitri made his way downstairs. There was no sign that Claude had yet returned, but as he readied himself to greet his guest, a suspicion had formed in the back of Dimitri's mind. His stomach was heavy with anticipation as he made his way down to greet 'the ambassador'. 

His guest was already waiting when he entered the room, standing before the roaring fireplace and staring contemplatively into the flames. For several moments, Dimitri admired the familiar form, dressed as it was in clothing he didn't recognise. Suddenly, the servant's odd choice of words made sense; they had clearly been instructed to follow the wording _exactly._

"Ambassador," Dimitri said after a few moments. 

Claude turned to face him, his expression lighting up with a polite smile. "Your Royal Highness!" he said, and bowed deeply. "My humble thanks for letting me trespass on your hospitality in this manner."

"N-not at all," Dimitri said, looking at him in wonder. He'd seen Claude in various states of undress over the years, but this was only the second time he'd seen him fully attired in traditional Almyran clothing, rather than some approximation worn as a compromise for the Alliance. At his hip, he wore a curved knife with a jewelled hilt and an intricately carved sheath, which was not a weapon he'd ever seen in Claude's possession. When Dimitri dragged his eyes back up to Claude's face, he found the other man watching him expectantly, and fumbled for the right words. "I—I'm honoured by your visit."

Claude beamed at him. "Thank you, Your Royal Highness," he said, holding out his hand. "May I?"

Puzzled, Dimitri offered his own hand. Grasping his fingers gently, Claude lifted Dimitri's hand to his mouth and kissed it, his mouth lingering for several moments too long. Had a real ambassador taken such a liberty, Dimitri's secretary would already be penning a letter to the ambassador's office to demand an apology. 

"It is a very great honour to meet you, Your Royal Highness," Claude murmured, lifting his eyes to Dimitri's slowly. His accent, Dimitri couldn't help but notice, was much stronger than usual, adding to the exotic air about him. He'd even shaved differently, changing the usual contours of his beard, and trimming it shorter than usual. Play along with me," he added in a whisper, accompanying his words with a roguish wink. "I'm _the Ambassador_ tonight."

Dimitri nodded, licking his bottom lip nervously.

"Truly," Claude continued, finally releasing Dimitri's hand. "Your portrait does not do you justice." His eyes flickered to the large portrait that hung on the wall opposite the fireplace, and Dimitri followed his gaze. In the painting, he and Claude were seated together, gazing at one another, instead of outward. The composition had been Ignatz's idea, and Claude had encouraged him. The finished piece, while a marvel, was almost unbearably romantic. Claude usually compromised by allowing Dimitri to have it covered up whenever they entertained guests.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Dimitri managed, trying to deflect Claude's attention from his blush. "What should I call you, Ambassador?"

Claude paused. "My apologies, Your Royal Highness," he said, inclining his head. "That was very rude of me. My name is Anvari."

"Ambassador Anvari," Dimitri said, inclining his head. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine," Claude replied, his voice low and rich. "I assure you."

Dimitri had to force down a nervous giggle. Claude had always been an incorrigible flirt, but Dimitri had grown used to him over the years. Suddenly it was as if he were seventeen again, and the kind words of a pretty boy were enough to set his heart aflutter. 

"Please," Dimitri said, floundering for something half-intelligent to say. "You, ah—you will stay for dinner, of course."

Claude's face lit up, no doubt thrilled that Dimitri was playing along. "I should be delighted!"

"Then, forgive me," Dimitri said, inclining his head once more. "There are some things I must take care of. I, ah—" He paused, uncertain of how to continue. Claude merely watched him with an open, hopeful expression. "Perhaps a servant could...show you to one of our guest rooms?"

"I thank you," Claude said, bowing. "Your hospitality is greatly appreciated. I had heard of your kindness, Your Highness, but to experience it in person—"

"Please," Dimitri said, a little sharply. He softened with a smile. "It is nothing. We shall see one another shortly, and then perhaps you could tell me more about matters in Almyra?"

Claude smiled back at him, although it wasn't quite as bright as his usual smile. "I would be honoured to entertain you."

— 

Having directed one of the very bewildered servants to show Claude to a guest room, Dimitri retreated to his own rooms and began to search for something presentable to wear. He didn't want to be overdressed, but nor did he want to seem like he wasn't willing to make an effort.

Finally, he returned downstairs and took a seat to wait for Claude to rejoin him. He did not wait long, Claude arriving precisely on time for them to be summoned to dinner. 

"Would you do me the honour?" Dimitri asked, offering his arm.

Claude ran his eyes appreciatively over Dimitri, lingering on the flattering cut of his waistcoat, the high collar of his shirt. Claude had also changed, donning a lighter robe which accentuated his subtle curves, and displayed a tantalising glimpse of his throat and clavicle. Returning his gaze to Dimitri's face, Claude slipped a hand through his arm and pressed a little closer than necessary. 

"I confess," he said, still speaking in that strange caricature of his own soft accent. "I had not hoped for the honour of a private audience with you, my Lord."

"Please," Dimitri said. "It is the least I can do. I must admit, I'm rather curious about you, Ambassador Anvari."

Claude—Dimitri supposed he should think of him as _Anvari_ —turned a sly smile his way. "Is that so? I believe you have a saying in Faerghus, that a cat will be caught by its curiosity?"

Dimitri swallowed. "Killed," he murmured. "We say 'curiosity killed the cat'."

"Ah! This is what I was thinking of." Claude's eyes sparkled. "You should be careful, Your Highness."

"Thank you for your concern," Dimitri said stiffly. 

As they reached the dining table, servants pulled out chairs for them, and Claude waited until Dimitri was seated before joining him. Dimitri hesitated, suddenly lost for words, but Claude reached out and clasped his hand briefly. 

"You're doing great," he whispered, accompanying his words with a wink. "Tell me if you want to stop."

Dimitri shook his head. "No, please."

Claude grinned. "Then we won't stop, my little daffodil," he said softly, holding Dimitri's gaze for a moment before glancing away at the entrance of a servant. 

They were served a light dinner, while Claude made idle conversation about Almyra, and Dimitri listened carefully. He knew that Claude was playing a part, but it was still fascinating to witness him talk so openly about a part of his life that he was usually so secretive about. He spoke joyfully about his home, the estate he had recently inherited, his family—all fictional, but Dimitri suspected they were based on people and places he'd known. 

As Dimitri finished his dish, the flow of conversation suddenly halted. He raised his head, and found Claude watching him with a calculating look. 

"What is it?"

"I believe you are married, are you not?" Claude—the Ambassador—asked in a cheerful tone. 

Dimitri gave him a warning look, but the Ambassador merely smiled at him sweetly. "Yes," Dimitri sighed, recognising that it was easier to submit to his questioning. "I am. Claude is...attending to some business. With the other Alliance leaders."

"Ah...so your husband is not here?"

Dimitri frowned at him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to Claude asking about himself, but the other man just grinned and nodded encouragingly. 

"He is not that far away," Dimitri said warily, and was gratified when the Ambassador chuckled. 

"But far enough," the Ambassador said in a low voice.

Dimitri's eyes widened a fraction when he realised the Ambassador's meaning. He wasn't used to being flirted with, at least not since before the war, not by anyone but Claude. 

"I hear he's a great man," the Ambassador continued, with a simpering smile that didn't suit him. "Kind, handsome, a towering intellect—"

"Modest too," Dimitri said drily. 

The Ambassador laughed softly. "But these things are trifles. Your husband has one thing I can never forgive him for."

Dimitri swallowed heavily. "What's that?"

"Why, you, of course."

"Me?" Dimitri asked, his hands trembling where they gripped his cutlery. 

The Ambassador nodded. "You are a very beautiful man."

Dimitri swallowed heavily. "Beautiful," he murmured, shaking his head. 

"Perhaps I misspoke," the Ambassador replied, nose crinkling in a very pretty fashion. "Should I say—handsome?" He grinned. "Charming?"

"I am not—" Dimitri began, before trailing off awkwardly at the expectant look on the Ambassador's face. Claude rarely countenanced his attempts at self-deprecation. He doubted the Ambassador would either. "I thank you."

The Ambassador looked pleased. "Perhaps your husband does not tell you how beautiful you are," he murmured, propping his chin in his hand. "Perhaps he does not realise how special you are."

Dimitri hesitated. "No, he—he's very kind. More than I deserve."

"Are you sure about that?" the Ambassador asked. "Surely someone so intelligent wouldn't place his kindness where it wasn't warranted."

"I must concede to your logic," Dimitri admitted, laughing under his breath. "What of you, Ambassador Anvari? Are you married?"

"Alas no," he replied with a shake of his head. "I have not yet known that pleasure. But please, I have talked of myself so much already. I wish to hear more of you."

"You already know everything about me," Dimitri replied without thinking. Then, at Claude's raised eyebrow, he coughed and added, "That is—given our respective positions, and the fact that you seem a clever and diligent man, I'm sure you've already learned all you can about me."

The Ambassador gave him a shark-like grin. "My reports did not underestimate your intelligence, for all that they failed to capture your beauty."

Dimitri coughed again, reaching for his wine glass to hide his blush. "Really, you are too kind."

"Have I embarrassed you?" the Ambassador asked, his dark eyebrows drawing together. "I assure you, no offence is meant. Where I come from, it is considered proper form to express the admiration we feel. I have no expectations of you."

"I am not embarrassed," Dimitri assured him with a faint smile. "And as you will be aware, my husband is half-Almyran. I'm sure he would understand."

The Ambassador smiled. "I am sure he would."

They talked a little longer, then Dimitri suggested that they retire to continue their discussion over tea. He made the request of one of the servants, and was left alone with the Ambassador. 

"Those are pretty flowers," the Ambassador remarked, nodding toward an arrangement in the centre of the table. "Those yellow ones, what are they called?"

"Ah—hydrangeas, I believe," Dimitri said, trying to cast his mind back to the little he'd managed to learn from Dedue about gardening. 

"Not...daffodils?" the other man asked, giving him a significant look.

Dimitri held his gaze. "No," he said firmly. "Not daffodils."

"Very well then," the Ambassador replied, and winked. "I trust you."

—

They made their way across to the hall to take their tea, but they had only been seated for a few minutes before the Ambassador rose. 

"These paintings are very beautiful," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Dimitri. "I was studying them earlier."

"My husband is the collector," Dimitri offered. "He has a good eye." He gave a rueful grin. "I only have the one."

The Ambassador looked at him for a moment, then started to laugh. "And I had heard that men of Faerghus had no sense of humour!" he said, beaming at Dimitri. "Please," he said, gesturing him closer. "I'm curious about this painting."

"I shall do my best," Dimitri began, rising from his seat. But no sooner had he pushed himself up than a rush of dizziness felled him. He stumbled against the little table, disturbing the tea tray with a loud rattle. "Ah—" he said slowly, bewildered. "Forgive me." 

"Your Royal Highness?" the Ambassador asked in an agitated tone. "Are you well?"

"Forgive me," Dimitri murmured, lifting a hand to his eyes. He covered them for a moment and took a deep breath, but the dizziness did not wane. "I—I feel unsteady all of a sudden."

The Ambassador hurried to his side, only hesitating for a moment before reaching out to support his arm. "Your Highness...please, you don't look well. Allow me to accompany you to your rooms."

"No, no," Dimitri said, trying to wave him off. "I'll be fine. A little too much wine, nothing more."

"Come," the Ambassador said, taking Dimitri's arm and looping it around his own neck. "You should really lie down."

Dimitri huffed. "It's nothing, we can continue—"

"Dimitri," Claude growled, low in his ear. "Are you asking me to stop?"

The realisation shocked him like a punch. Dimitri's eyes flew wide, and he froze momentarily. "Very well," he said slowly. "Your help would be...much appreciated."

His condition worsened as the Ambassador helped him climb the stairs; the dizziness faded somewhat, only to be replaced by a strange feeling of weakness that spread through him, something he'd only felt before when in the grip of a terrible fever. He managed to give directions to his rooms, and before long he found himself being lowered gently onto his bed. He groped for the mattress, and sat heavily. Looking up, the other man's face was unreadable with the light behind him. 

"How do you feel?" the Ambassador asked softly.

Dimitri's mouth was dry, and he swallowed before responding. "I—I feel...dizzy?" he ventured. He looked at his own hands resting in his hip. They felt numb and far away. "Weak." He lifted his gaze to the other man's slowly. "Thank you for helping me."

"Don't thank me, Your Highness," the Ambassador replied in a low voice. He moved closer, pushing Dimitri onto his back.

Dimitri fell back, blinking up at the light. "What—what're you doing?"

"I want what I came for, Highness," the Ambassador said, the warmth and humour gone from his tone. His smile was cold. "Did you think I came merely to pay my respects?"

A frisson of fear and excitement rolled down Dimitri's spine, but he still had enough sense about him to play his part. "I don't understand."

"You were so quick to accept what I told you," the Ambassador continued, moving closer. He lifted his knee onto the edge of the bed, then seated himself on Dimitri's thighs. His voice was low and dangerous, and with his thick accent it was reminiscent of times that Dimitri had met other countrymen of Claude's; broad-chested, deep-voiced men, with dark beards and darker eyes. "Tell me," the Ambassador continued, using one finger to lift Dimitri's chin, "why would a newly appointed ambassador come here, without invitation, when he must have _known_ your husband would still be in Almyra?"

Dimitri swallowed thickly, excitement churning his stomach. "I—" he began, uselessly, his breath hitching faster.

"You see?" the Ambassador drawled, pinching Dimitri's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Even with one eye, you saw what I was. You invited me in anyway."

Dimitri swallowed. "My husband, uh—he'll arrive home any time now."

A slow, terrible smile spread across the Ambassador's face. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that," he said gently. "I arranged for a little...misadventure." He bent down so that their faces were close together. "You should be grateful, Highness. _You_ might actually enjoy some of what happens to you."

"Oh," Dimitri sighed, shuddering at the sensation of the man's gentle breath against his cheek the scent of pine tea. He knew that he ought to resist, but the familiar scent and heat of the man's body soothed him. He tugged at the sheets beneath him, indecisive, torn between trying to win his freedom, and surrendering to the man's dominance of him. He tried to drag his cloudy thoughts back to what the Ambassador had said. "Claude," he managed, and saw the Ambassador's eyes widen slightly. "You won't hurt him…?"

The faint surprise dissolved from the Ambassador's eyes, and he leaned closer, his voice a gentle purr in Dimitri's ear. "Please me well enough," he said softly, "and no harm need come to him."

"How?" Dimitri murmured, instinctively turning his head to accommodate his good eye. He flexed his hands against the bed once more. The Ambassador's thighs were scorchingly warm against his own. He flexed them as he sat up again, staring down at Dimitri with a considering look, like a cat surveying a mouse. 

"You care for your husband?" he cooed, tracing a finger along Dimitri's jaw. 

Dimitri swallowed. "More than anything."

"How touching." A callused thumbpad brushed over his chin, then pressed down on his lower lip. At the insistent pressure, Dimitri opened his mouth, and the Ambassador's thumb pressed down on his tongue. "Then you'd do anything for him, I suppose."

Dimitri's eyes widened. He nodded. 

"Good news for me," the Ambassador drawled, running his thumb over Dimitri's tongue, feeling out the sharp points of his canines. It was unbearably intimate, making Dimitri feel somewhere between a whore and a prize bitch for breeding. He could hardly breathe, waiting to see what the man would do next. "I believe I could do anything to you," the Ambassador whispered, as though he were speaking to himself and not Dimitri, "and you wouldn't stop me."

With difficulty, Dimitri swallowed, his tongue brushing the web of skin between the Ambassador's thumb and forefinger. Laughing, the Ambassador withdrew his hand, and wiped it dry on Dimitri's shirt. 

"It seems this little kitten got itself caught after all," he said, reaching to untangle Dimitri's fingers from the sheets. He lifted Dimitri's hands, pinning them by his head.

"Let me go," Dimitri said, though he didn't struggle. "I—I command it."

The Ambassador's soft laughter made his stomach clench. "Ah, but I am not one of your subjects, Highness." He ran his hand down Dimitri's chest, over the neat gold buttons of his waistcoat, and lingered on the fastening of his breeches, before pressing down against his groin.

Dimitri groaned, hips rising instinctively at the promise of his touch. "Please—"

"Are you asking me to stop?" the Ambassador asked, using the heel of his hand to grind down on Dimitri's hardening cock. "Or are you already begging for more?"

"Please," Dimitri sighed, turning his head away. His face was hot, his limbs loose and heavy. 

"The latter, I see," the Ambassador said smoothly. He slid his hand up again, over Dimitri's stomach, pausing to cup his breast, coveting and squeezing it with an eager expression. "You don't seem terribly keen to stop me, after all."

Dimitri dragged his bottom lip through his teeth.

"Maybe you think you deserve this," the Ambassador continued. He caught Dimitri's nipple through his shirt and gave it a vicious tweak, causing Dimitri to cry out softly, his chest jerking up from the bed. "Do you, Your Highness?"

"Ah—no-no," Dimitri gasped, pressing his burning cheek into the sheets. 

The Ambassador gave a filthy laugh, quite unlike Claude's laughter. "After all, your husband would be home safe now, if not for you."

Dimitri grimaced. "No—please—"

"You want to be punished, don't you?" Rough hands kneaded his chest, and gave his nipples another merciless pinch. 

"G-Goddess, please," Dimitri cried, arching his hips.

"Please yes, or please no?" the Ambassador teased, rolling his hips forward so his cock pressed against Dimitri's own.

He was afire, the man's words making him shudder, sending blood rushing to his cock, dizzying him still further. He hadn't moved his hands from where they lay against the bed, and he suddenly remembered them now. They felt heavy as he lifted them, but when he made to push the Ambassador's hands away, he found himself weak and useless. 

The Ambassador's deep laughter rolled over him. "Is this the strength of the mighty Prince of Faerghus?" he jeered, knocking Dimitri's hands away. "Didn't they used to call you the _Boar Prince_?"

Dimitri's stomach twisted horribly, snapping him out of his daze. "Do not call me that," he whispered. 

The Ambassador caught his gaze, and for a moment he was _Claude_ , calculating but gentle. He nodded once, and Dimitri relaxed minutely, the sick sensation in his chest dissipating. Moving off him suddenly, he rolled Dimitri with ease, turning him onto his belly. 

"What're you doing?" Dimitri asked, turning his head to try and see as the Ambassador straddled him once more. 

"Such a pretty picture you make, Highness," he cooed, grabbing one of Dimitri's wrists and bending it up against his spine to stop his struggling. With the other hand, he kneaded Dimitri's backside through his clothing, digging his fingers in too hard. "Perhaps your husband should commission a painting of this."

Dimitri grimaced. "N-no, I—"

"The artist could title it _'The Fall of House Blaiddyd'_ ," the Ambassador mused, grinding against him slowly. "Or do you prefer something more prosaic?"

"Please," Dimitri gasped. "Not this, please—"

The Ambassador chuckled. "Perhaps you're right. After all, I think you may enjoy this too much to make a useful punishment." He reached under Dimitri's hips and deftly unfastened his breeches, slipping a hand in to grasp his cock. "Does your husband know what a little slut you are?"

Dimitri's face _burned_. "Do not speak to me that way," he mumbled into the bed. 

"You're not going to stop me though," the Ambassador said, sounding smug. He tugged Dimitri's breeches over his hips, down to his thighs. "You know you deserve this."

Dimitri said nothing as the Ambassador used a hand to spread him open. It reminded him of the last time they'd been together before Claude's departure, but this time instead of a gentle, clever tongue delving in for a taste, he felt instead a damp fingertip stroke roughly over his hole. 

"Has anyone else ever touched you like this?" the Ambassador drawled, clearly enjoying himself. "Or only him?"

When Dimitri only gritted his teeth, the Ambassador clicked his tongue impatiently. 

"Come now, we were getting along so well," he complained. Dimitri said nothing, and after a moment the Ambassador leaned back, and then spat. Dimitri flinched at the sensation of saliva hitting his skin, and the way it trickled slowly down between his buttocks. "I think you're going to behave for me," the Ambassador crooned, as he rubbed the spit over Dimitri's hole, then slowly began to work his finger inside. He leaned over Dimitri, the cool silk of his clothing like water against Dimitri's back, and said in a husky whisper, "But I'll have more fun if you don't."

Dimitri struggled against him, trying to turn his head to see the other man, but the Ambassador was only encouraged to thrust his finger deeper, laughing at Dimitri's grunt of protest. 

"It's so tight," the Ambassador observed. "Your husband _does_ fuck you, doesn't he?" He pulled back and then thrust in again, emphasising his hand movement with a roll of his hips, his erection digging into Dimitri's backside. "Or maybe he keeps you like a stud. Maybe he likes to imagine being bred by you."

"O-oh," Dimitri whispered, paralysed by the thought. Arousal flooded him, making him weak once more. 

The Ambassador chuckled. "Like that, do you? That's all you're good for these days, isn't it? Doing as you're told. Breeding your mongrel."

Dimitri shuddered.

"You're just an animal," the Ambassador continued. He ceased his ministrations briefly, then Dimitri heard the scrape of a vial being opened, followed by oil splattering over his lower back and the cleft of his backside. The Ambassador must have been keeping the vial in his clothing, because the oil was blood warm against Dimitri's skin. "Well? Isn't that what you are?" he hissed. "Say it, or I'll slit your husband's throat myself."

"I—I'm an animal," Dimitri whispered. 

"That's right," the Ambassador said in a smug voice. He moved suddenly, shifting his weight off Dimitri's thighs and releasing his wrist. "Show me," he said, cocksure and cruel. "Show me how animals get fucked."

It took Dimitri several tries to raise himself on his shaking hands. He kept his head down, his eyes downturned. Slowly, he reached back and pulled his breeches a few inches lower. 

The Ambassador gave a low chuckle. "You really are a little slut," he murmured, crowding behind Dimitri, grabbing hold of his hips. "Eager," he growled, as he fumbled with his own clothing. "Like a bitch in heat."

"Goddess," Dimitri groaned, tensing as heat rolled over him. 

"Ask me to punish you."

Dimitri bit his lip, grinding it between his teeth. 

A sharp slap against his thigh made him gasp. "Say it."

"Ah! P-punish me, please…"

"You think he'll want you back after this?" The Ambassador finally freed his cock from the thin layers of his clothing, and pressed its hot length against Dimitri's backside. He rolled his hips, grinding against him with intent; his fingers dug into Dimitri's hips hard enough to bruise, leaving him no escape. "I've half a mind to take you home with me," the Ambassador mused. "Keep you chained like a beast." He laughed at Dimitri's shudder. "I've always wanted a _pet_."

"I won't let you," Dimitri said, but his protest was weak. 

The Ambassador didn't dignify his words with a response. Instead he reached between them, grasping his cock and nudging it against Dimitri's hole. He was slick from the oil, but not enough, not really. "What say you, Beast?" the Ambassador crooned, nudging the head of his cock against Dimitri's hole, making the muscle strain in a way that sent a delicious shiver along his spine. "I've never fucked a wild animal before."

He started to push, stretching Dimitri further, but he didn't let himself push hard enough to slip inside, instead limiting himself to teasing. Dimitri grunted, clenching his hands into fists in anticipation. Wordlessly, he arched his spine, pushing back against the other man. 

With a groan, the Ambassador pushed into him again slowly. The head of his cock popped in, making Dimitri gasp, but the Ambassador gave him very little time to adjust before he continued to push in. Dimitri could hardly breathe; his breath stoppering up in his throat at the slow, determined pressure, the way his body opened for it reluctantly. Every inch was overwhelming, until he felt the weight of the other man's hips connect with his own. 

"There," the Ambassador said, his voice strained beneath the cocksure tone. "Ah—is that—what you wanted, Beast?"

Dimitri clawed at the sheets, bending and then arching his spine again. He couldn't bring himself to assent verbally, but the Ambassador didn't force a response from him. Instead he clutched Dimitri's hips tightly and pulled out of him, agonisingly slow, right to the tip. He thrust in again harder than before, knocking the air out of Dimitri's chest. Every inch of him was tingling. A stray drop of oil trickled down his thigh to stain his breeches. He felt like a soap bubble, quivering and delicate. He longed to be burst. 

Just as he'd begun to adjust to the intrusion, Claude gave another slow, punishing thrust. He placed a hand over the small of Dimitri's back, and slid it up under his shirt. 

"How does it feel, _pet_?" the Ambassador asked breathlessly, hips working as his pace began to increase. "Perhaps—I'll have a collar made for you, hm? Leash you—like ah, _unh_ —like a rabid _dog_."

"Oh, Goddess—" Dimitri felt himself being shoved closer to the edge of the bed with the force of the other man's thrusts. He clung onto the bedclothes, mindless of the sheet rubbing against his face, or the discomfort of his legs trapped in his breeches. He felt himself floating, aware of nothing but the firm hands grasping his hips; the harsh, heavy breathing above him; Claude's robes brushing against his skin, maddeningly soft compared with the sheets beneath him. He wasn't aware of his arms giving way until he found his cheek pressed against the bed, his arms curled uselessly at his sides. The Ambassador kept fucking him, pounding into him with slow, gruelling determination. It was nothing like the way Claude made love to him; it was, as he'd suggested, _animal_.

"You're so weak," the Ambassador growled, clawing at his shirt. "Look at you, letting me fuck you like a whore."

Dimitri sobbed, his throat raw and his cock aching. He was starting to tumble over the edge of the bed, one arm dangling, his head tipping forward. "Please—"

The Ambassador snarled, and halting his movements briefly, he seized handfuls of Dimitri's waistcoat and wrenched him up onto his knees, until his head fell back onto the Ambassador's shoulder. "Do you think I won't take what I came for?" he growled in Dimitri's ear. 

"Claude," Dimitri gasped, reaching back to grab at the other man's clothing. "A-Ambassador, I—"

"Your husband is here," came the low voice against the side of his neck. "He's watching you debase yourself for me."

Dimitri moaned weakly. "Claude—" 

The Ambassador seized a handful of Dimitri's hair. "He knows what you are."

Fresh arousal tore through Dimitri's chest and he gave an agonised groan. 

"Touch yourself," the Ambassador instructed. He pressed his teeth against Dimitri's neck, scraping them down to the join of his neck and shoulder before biting down. Shivers rolled through Dimitri, and the Ambassador bit down harder, before saying in a low voice, "I told you to touch yourself."

Fumbling, Dimitri reached down and took hold of his cock. He was painfully aroused, and his cock was wet with anticipation, more thin fluid spilling over his fingers as he began to stroke himself. The Ambassador released his hair after a moment, cupping his hand around Dimitri's jaw instead. His clever fingers were gentle against Dimitri's throat, yet held the promise of violence. The other held his hip tightly, digging in hard enough to bruise. 

"Come for me, Highness," the Ambassador purred against his shoulder. "Show your husband how much you like being my pet—"

"Ah—!" Dimitri gasped, eyes flying wide when the man's fingers closed more tightly around his throat. It still wasn't enough to endanger him, but the threat was enough to send a surge of adrenaline rolling down his spine. He waited for a moment, expecting the panic to set in, the dark curtain to descend, but there was nothing. Just Claude's arms around him, warm breath on his neck, and his voice, softly calling Dimitri home. 

Dimitri tensed as he spent in his fist, and felt the other man clutch him more tightly. 

"Goddess, Dimitri," Claude groaned, pressing his forehead tightly against the back of Dimitri's shoulder. A shudder passed over him, and a low groan that shook through Dimitri's chest, and then he was still. Dimitri covered Claude's hand on his hip, and for a minute or two, they simply stayed there, pressed tightly together, until their thighs began to shake. 

Claude pulled away with a regretful sound, and Dimitri's breath caught when he slid his cock free and a warm rush of his spending followed. "Come here," he said, gently turning Dimitri, helping him to lie down. The exaggerated accent was gone; he spoke in his normal voice again, and Dimitri felt himself relax inwardly at its return. When Dimitri was on his back, Claude removed his boots for him, tossing them across the room, and made short work of his breeches too. Dimitri tried to help, but his fingers fumbled over the buttons of his waistcoat, and Claude laughed softly. "Let me, beloved," he murmured, leaning over to kiss Dimitri's brow. 

"Claude," Dimitri murmured, catching at his elbows as he made to pull away again.

For a moment, Claude blinked at him in surprise, wide green eyes catching the light. Then he smiled, eyes crinkling in the familiar way that made Dimitri's heart clench. Dimitri slid his hand into Claude's hair and tugged him down to kiss him. Claude came into it eagerly, spreading his hand on Dimitri's chest and opening his mouth to him, pouring in all the feeling and care that had been mostly absent during their play acting. 

"Are you alright?" Dimitri asked as they parted, breathing heavily. "Claude—"

"Me?" Claude asked, laughing. "I'm fine, my love. What of you? Was I too—"

"No," Dimitri said quickly, cupping his face and kissing him again. "You were—I—" He closed his eyes and gave a huff of laughter. "I seem to have lost command of my native tongue."

Claude grinned. "A pity," he murmured, brushing Dimitri's hair back from his face. "I rather enjoy the things you can do with it."

Dimitri's own laughter surprised him, and even though the jest hadn't been that funny, he found that once he began to laugh, he couldn't stop. Claude, still smiling, joined in with his own puzzled laughter after a moment. He flopped beside Dimitri, and the bed shook beneath them as they both laughed, and laughed, until their bellies ached. 

Finally their mirth dissipated, and they lay together quietly, sticky and sated. 

"I love you," Dimitri murmured, blinking up at the ceiling, his eyes wet from laughing. He glanced across at Claude, and reached for his hand. "I love you more than there are stars in the heavens."

Claude beamed at him. "And I love you more than there are daffodils in Faerghus."

A wry smile graced Dimitri's face. "Not an awful lot grows in Faerghus, you know."

Claude snorted. "Then we should plant some here, in the valley."

"Oh," Dimitri sighed, picturing a blanket of them shining beneath the sun, and walking knee-deep in yellow flowers with Claude. "Yes," he said, drawing Claude's hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles softly. "I should like that."

"But first," Claude sighed, rolling onto his back to stretch, "a bath." He looked over at Dimitri and winked. "And then, perhaps, another bout?"

Dimitri swallowed thickly, his contentment fizzing in his throat, turning quickly to a fresh wave of arousal. "More in the usual way, this time?" he suggested.

"Yes please," Claude laughed, beginning to wriggle out of his clothing. "I couldn't stand being that slimy, silver-tongued snake for another minute." He threw Dimitri a careless grin. "But you have to admit I was convincing, wasn't I?"

"Claude," Dimitri murmured, watching as Claude lifted his robes over his head, baring his scarred back. "You know that I—I never thought of you—" He sighed, grimacing, and pushed himself to a sitting position. "I know how Fódlanders view the people of Almyra, but I never—I've always held you in very high esteem. Even long before we were—"

"I know." Claude's voice was soft now, and Dimitri could sense that there was still something there, something very large that had been crammed into a very small space, in order for Claude to live his life the way he had. After a moment Claude turned again, and his smile was almost perfect. He reached out and rested his hand on Dimitri's bare thigh. "I know, my love." He tapped his fingers against Dimitri's leg, and his smile softened, reaching his eyes once more. "You were always a perfect gentlemen. You were—too kind to be who you were."

Dimitri tried and failed to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. "A bath," he said thickly. "A bath is a very good idea."

Claude nodded, then he leaned in, and Dimitri gathered him against his chest. They held one another very tightly. It was a long time before they stirred again. 

—

**Epilogue:**

"I don't remember there being so many flowers here the last time we visited," Sylvain observed. 

"It was Claude's idea," Dimitri said, turning to watch where Claude and Felix were walking together, a short way behind them. Felix did not engender the same possessive feelings in him as Holst Goneril, and so the sight was a pleasant one. 

Sylvain, who had clearly already intuited that Claude was the architect behind such grand designs, laughed softly. "I like it. A golden valley for your golden deer."

Dimitri gave an awkward laugh. "Something like that, yes."

"I would say marriage has turned you soft," Sylvain said, smiling wryly, "but you were always this soft, underneath it all."

"Perhaps," Dimitri allowed. He held Sylvain's knowing gaze for a few moments, then turned back to watch Claude, eyes drawn to the way his bright cloak glowed brilliantly in the afternoon sunshine. "But if I had not been, then Claude and I would probably both be dead."

Sylvain huffed. "And there wouldn't be any daffodils here, I suppose."

"No, I suppose not," Dimitri murmured. He watched Claude as he and Felix walked closer, a smile touching his face at the sight of Claude's easy laughter, and the way Sylvain's face relaxed when Felix echoed it. "Are you happy, Sylvain?"

"Ah—what kind of a question is that?" Sylvain asked, laughing uncomfortably.

Dimitri turned and fixed him with a look. 

"Damn it," Sylvain sighed, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. He, too, turned to watch the other men approaching. "Yeah," he said at last, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face. "I guess I am." He glanced back at Dimitri and laughed again. "I don't need to ask if you are."

"No," Dimitri said, softly. His smile was so wide, he couldn't stop it. "You don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE check out the [WONDERFUL ARTWORK](https://twitter.com/jaspurrlock/status/1223312287848714242) (nsfw) that jas has made to go with this story!! show her some love ♥
> 
>   
> **Warning:** They discuss what happened in the first Scene they attempted and both agree to try again with a Scene that isn't linked to Dimitri's past trauma. Dimitri asks Claude to ensure he won't hurt him. 
> 
> In the second Scene they attempt, Claude roleplays as a stranger and drugs Dimitri so that he can't fight back in a way that will injure him. Dimitri does not explicitly consent to being drugged, but he is fully on board with the experience.
> 
> Please also be aware that there is interrogation of Claude's race, with canon-typical xenophobia.

**Author's Note:**

> [share the fic](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/1220465704924864513) | [my three houses fic](https://twitter.com/jaspurrlock/status/1223312287848714242>share%20the%20art</a>%20%20%7C%20%20<a%20href=)


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